


to the rhythm of war

by wariangle



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 09:05:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1599308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wariangle/pseuds/wariangle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-battle celebration between Chadara and Saxa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to the rhythm of war

**Author's Note:**

> Post-Vengeance.

“You look as fucking Roman lady gone to war,” Saxa tells her with a grin as she helps Chadara rid herself of her armour.

Chadara found the dress in a villa they took in search for food and was unable to resist the temptation of expensive garment against skin. With the fabric cut off at her knees, it is good enough to fight in. The rest of her armour, too, is scavenged. The greaves she picked of a Roman corpse and they chafe against her legs, but she keeps on wearing them, considering sores a fair price for protection against crippling blows. After almost losing her arm to a soldier rushing her from behind she scavenged his pauldorns once her axe had sent him to the afterlife. In a ludus she found a chainmail manica for the arm that wields the axe. It took some time adjusting her blows to the new weight and rendered it clumsy in battle, which gained her a deep cut in her side. It healed, but left a wide scar in remembrance.  

Undressed but for the lacy slip she wears beneath the dress she returns favour, stripping Saxa of her garments. For living a life so marred by battle, Saxa’s skin is curiously devoid of scars. Chadara already carries many marks of war, but Saxa, who was barely more than a child the first time she picked up a sword, has only a few reminders of small scraps and a big scar over the lower half of her ribs to show for it.

She has not told Chadara much of her life before arriving to Roman shore – her halting use of Roman tongue prevents her, as does the bravado she protects herself with like a shield – but it happens that she opens up when they lay wrapped in furs in the tent after having taken a little too much wine.

Tonight is not such a night, though – Saxa presses her down upon bedroll and kisses her with purpose. Her mouth soon leaves Chadara’s, moves downward to suck first one nipple into her mouth and then the other, leaving the fabric of her slip to cling to her breasts as her mouth wanders further down. Chadara gasps and then giggles as Saxa’s tongue teases over the sensitive skin of her stomach and lets her thighs part as Saxa’s hands fall to them to spread them wide.

“Wet,” Saxa says with a pleased smirk, sliding a fingertip inside of her. “For me or death of Romans?”

Desire, like wielding an axe, or killing, or surviving as fugitivus, is something Chadara has had to learn. She reaches her hands out, brushes Saxa’s hair off her face, lets the other glide down her shoulder. She had never had a woman’s body beneath her hands before Saxa, nor known it to be a thing she wanted.

“Are you certain you wish to know?” she jests, pulling Saxa up to her and down into a kiss.

Saxa laughs, pressing fingers deeper, drawing a moan from Chadara.

“Me,” Saxa concludes triumphantly.

At first, Chadara had believed herself drawn to the Germanic woman because she is so different from anything she had known – Saxa was born free, lived free and has known but briefest moment of life in chains. She is used to wanting and taking what she desires. And Chadara could not help to admire her beauty, but most of all her savagery. The way she never treads carefully with her eyes casts down, but strides with wilful purpose in every step.

Chadara had kissed her after a day of victory and celebration, the taste of wine mingling between them, and Saxa had laughed against her lips.

“Come, little warrior,” she had said and brought Chadara with her to her tent. She had undressed her, fallen to her knees and put her mouth between her legs, causing Chadara to gasp and firmly grasp on to her shoulders for fear of losing her balance.

“None ever touch like this?” Saxa had asked, looking up at her.

Chadara could but shake her head, absent words, and when Saxa’s tongue curled inside of her and her fingers sought out the bud that caused pleasure to spark throughout Chadara’s body, knees did buckle beneath her.

Saxa fucks the way she fights – fast and wild – and Chadara learns what it is like to fall to command willingly and by choice.

Now Saxa kisses her eagerly before slipping down her body again, hands dragging over skin.

“I would taste,” she says and Chadara spreads her legs again, already panting as Saxa brushes fabric aside and tongue and fingers finds her cunt.

It is swift; excitement from another battle won is still pounding in their blood. Saxa’s name is drawn from Chadara’s lips in a shout and her hips arches of the bedroll as pleasure crest inside of her.

“Touch burn like fire,” Chadara pants, “and steals breath away.”

Saxa pulls her fingers out of her, licks them clean, smirk again spreading over her flushed face.

“I would have return,” she says, mouth pressing against Chadara’s and letting sharp teeth scrape over sensitive flesh.

Chadara pushes up against her, moving leg around her waist. Her fingers find Saxa’s cunt slick with arousal and she presses in, knowing how greedy her woman is. True enough: Saxa rises herself up and places hands on ground, fucking herself on her lover’s fingers, German curses slipping from her tongue.

Contorting her neck, Chadara kisses Saxa’s breasts, teeth closing sharply around a nipple, causing Saxa to moan from the sting. Chadara’s free hand roams, drawn to the play of muscles beneath Saxa’s skin as she strains and works herself towards her release.

Always loud and foul-mouthed, Saxa lets out a string of curses loudly enough to wake the dead as she finishes and Chadara’s laugh is cut of abruptly as Saxa’s well-muscled body suddenly is pressing her into the ground.

“There will be remarks come morning meal,” Chadara says, free hand going up to trace patterns over Saxa’s back, her fingers still nestled inside her slick warmth.

Saxa just snorts and bends to give her another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr](http://wariangle.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
